


gift of a thief

by Darth Occlus (NotSummer)



Series: deliverance [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Height Differences, Humor, Pre-Relationship, Short & Sweet, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSummer/pseuds/Darth%20Occlus
Summary: On a GAR ship, the caf machine is always running. It's just a question of who gets to the pot first.





	gift of a thief

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesse jumped, then hunched over the caf pot in his hands. He turned to see his partner standing behind him, her lekku writhing in indignant anger. Her normally blue eyes were a deep navy dulled by exasperation and he grinned sheepishly before taking another sip from the caf pot.

Her jaw dropped silently and she put her hands on her hips. Jesse guessed she was trying to be intimidating, but he’d been assigned to her for a month now, and well, he knew her. Or knew her well enough to decide she didn’t hold any malice towards him. “It’s not that big a deal, Naida,” he started.

“Drinking from  _ the pot _ ? Jesse!” Her tone was scandalized, and he couldn’t keep a quiet snort of amusement from escaping. She glared at him and reached for the pot. Jesse was in a playful mood, and he could see flecks of amusement in her eyes, so he didn’t hand it to her but instead lifted it above his head, where she couldn’t reach.

Her jaw dropped and she fought to look irritated, even as giggles escaped past her feigned anger. “Jesse, that’s not fair.”

He lowered the pot just enough to take another sip, looking her in the eye as he did so. He let out a happy sigh and then raised it above his head as she moved to grab it. She giggled, and jumped, but her fingertips just missed it. “You have the Force, don’t you?” Normally he wouldn’t tease a Jedi, but they’d been to hell and back on their last few missions, and this laughter, this teasing: it was nice.

She pouted and put her hands back on her hips. “You know I can’t do telekinesis.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” he said, taking another sip, still looking her in the eyes. “You could practice.”

She opted another strategy and he mentally swore. He’d seen her try this trick on others, and most of the time it worked. “Oh no,” he said as her eyes widened pleadingly, “I’m not going to be another fool who falls for that.”

She took another step, her bottom lip just hinting at a wobble, misery in her eyes.  _ She’s a born liar, _ he reminded himself. “Just a sip?” she asked softly.

He hesitated, and she doubled down, sensing weakness. “Just a little bit, Jesse?”

“This is mine,” he grumbled, “I brewed it.” Her eyes grew even more miserable and he began to feel like he’d kicked an akk puppy. Damn, but she knew what she was doing. He lowered the caf pot against his better judgement.

She snatched it and then turned to dust and smoke, going invisible, and Jesse groaned. “I’m never sharing caf with you again,” he called. “Thief! That’s the last time I do anything nice for you.”

Her giggles echoed through the ship, and he shook his head before smiling, leaning back on the counter. She burst back into visibility right next to him, sitting on the counter, and he stifled a yelp as she startled him. The soft golden glow, an indicator of her ceasing her stealth mode as she teasingly called it, faded around her, and she held out a cup of caf to him. “Try this instead?”

He mentally grumbled as he took the mug from her and then paused. He spun it around in his hands, careful not to spill the caf, and he felt a lump grow in his throat.

“It’s for you,” she chirped. “Everyone needs a caf mug. I know you've been borrowing spare ones, so I thought you should have one of your own.”

He stayed silent, his eyes tracing the blue  and grey stripes on the mug. They were reminiscent of his own armor designs, and he traced the lettering of his name on the handle. She had to have gotten it custom made. “Thank you,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. Brothers traded what they had, little mementos and gifts, but she certainly wasn’t a brother, and to her, it probably meant nothing.

He didn’t really have possessions. Some mementos from Hack and Klik and Hardcase that he’d managed to snag from their lockers before everything was cleaned out, ready for the next trooper. The occasional memento of his own, but nothing big, noticeable. It all had to be easily hidden. “Thank you, Miyala,” he repeated, adding her name, still staring down at the mug.

She looked dumbstruck, and he realized it was the first time he’d used her name. She’d given her permission a long time ago, on their first mission, but he’d never used it. It felt too familiar, and she was a Jedi. She recovered and ducked her head, deflecting, “Well, you know, now you don’t have to drink out of the caf pot.” She gestured with her own mug, and he bemusedly noted her caf was nearly white with the amount of cream and sugar she had added.

He reached out and clumsily squeezed her arm, wanting to say something more eloquent but not finding the words. There was understanding in her eyes though, and she leaned her shoulder into his as they relaxed, drinking caf together.


End file.
